Cloaked in Silence
by paulatheprokaryote
Summary: How far would you go to save the one you love? First Place in Lost Muse's Muggle Challenge For TheVividImagination's 'How Angst Are You' Challenge and Lost Muse's 'Muggle Challenge'
1. Chapter 1

There it was again. That lurching pit in my stomach every time I gazed at her greying skin, bluing lips, and slightly jaundiced eyes ringed with dark circles. It was like death was already clawing at her. No child should ever experience this. We've come so far. We fought, we won. We are fighting all over again. My heart ached for a time where she was teetering on the lawn, trying to con me into pulling her around in her crimson wagon. To call her cough anything other than a death rattle would be a sentimental lie. Her voice was hoarse, each cough spaced with gasps for air.

The nurse brought her a plastic cup full of a sour smelling liquid that was supposed to help her fight off the virus she'd somehow acquired. She pulled the cup to her lips, grimacing before it ever touched. She knocked it back quickly, twisting her face into an equally sour expression from the revolting taste. She sputtered for a moment, then shook with disgust. I almost laughed.

"Lala, will you read me the story about the brothers?" Even just the action of smiling up at me with her toothy grin seemed to exhaust her.

"You mean _The Tale of the Three Brothers_?" I asked, knowing full and well that was the one she wanted. I'd been reading it on repeat for the past months. Her mother read it to her before me.

She scrunched her nose like a rabbit, signifying that was indeed the one she wanted. My heart ached again, recalling the day she decided to make up sign language for just the two of us. All of the tubes in her throat had made it too hard for her to talk much.

"There were once three brothers who were traveling along a lonely, winding road at twilight" I began, smiling warmly at her nose twitching in excitement. My little bunny rabbit. It wasn't long before she had dozed off, allowing me to gently close the worn spine. Dr. Cardillo, a gentle, older man with soft demeanor and stray eyebrows, tapped lightly on the door. I tucked the book carefully under my arm.

"How's she feeling?" he asked when I softly closed the door behind me.

"She's in a lot of pain, but she's a fighter." I grimaced, rubbing the aching base of my spine.

"And how are you feeling?" he asked, noticing my grimace.

"I'm fine. The medicine has been hard on my joints, but it's worth it." I forced a smile. Anything would be worth it to see her up and playing again.

"Good. Well, I've got the lab results back and it's not the best of news." he flipped her chart open.

"No." I said quietly. I couldn't hear bad news right now. I just couldn't.

"I'm not sure if she will last long enough for the procedure. We're doing our best to maintain function until she can fight off the infection, but there's a very real possibility that the infection will be too much for her."

"Well let's just do it now!" I couldn't choke back the tears, already knowing all the reasons we couldn't. He shot me that sympathetic look that he always had brimming in his pale grey eyes. It's easy to forget that doctors are used to dying children. It's easy to forget that there are other kids besides Mia. It's easy to forget there's anything at all besides Mia.

"Her immune system is suppressed already, increasing the likelihood of-well-let's just hope time is on our side." he finished. For a doctor, he failed at being cold and clinical. Then again, it's impossible for anyone to be too clinical about the death of a child. How the bloody hell can she defeat the scariest of all maladies only to be defeated by the goddamn flu! I won't stand for it!

Staring at his lips moving, not hearing the words spewing out, I was pulled back to the day we finally saw an oncologist. "As for as cancers go, this one is not typically a death sentence. The odds of remission are very, very good. There's reason to be optimistic." I pondered whether or not doctors could even say such a thing. He made it seem like it was as minor as a sore throat or inflamed appendix.

I couldn't bare his sympathetic eyes or reassuring smile a moment longer. Tears streaming down my face, nose bubbling mucus, I sprinted to the nearest bathroom. I immediately doubled over, stomach twisting and knotting. I hadn't eaten enough today, causing bile to burn on its way out. If her mother had been here, she would know what to do.

She could have waved her wand and fixed the whole thing. I tried to take her to the special hospital that the magical people had, but neither of us were magical enough to be worth their time. A "muggle" and "squib" the archaic woman with purple hair had called us. "Nothing we can do for you here." I'd tried to go back to the magical hospital again, banging on the windows screaming that she wasn't a squib. She did bursts of magic all the time! Lighting paper towels on fire when she knocked over her juice, levitating the cat when she had a tantrum, making the ice cream float out of the freezer when she had to eat her peas! She was just too young to control it! This time I couldn't get through. I tried to explain my sister was one of them. Had been one of them, but no one cared. My sister was gone and I just wasn't enough.

I thought back to the day they told me that the cancer was in remission. We'd won! She hugged me so tightly that I could barely breathe! I promised her we'd play in the park every single day, we'd watch all the best films the theater could produce, we'd travel to every country she wanted to visit. We'd never take life for granted again. Never.

I splashed my face with the coldest water the rusty tap would produce. I needed to wash the stench of death and bile off. I needed to go back to the books again. I let the charge nurse know that I was leaving and went home to my sister's small cottage. There was nothing more haunting than being somewhere you don't belong. She had newspapers stacked on her desk, piles of books on magical medicine that I'd dragged out, weird contraptions that made no sense to me. It was almost as if she was still alive. Forty-seven pages into a bizarre textbook about the magical uses of some plant called gillyweed, I had to take a break. My eyes were so dry that blinking only made them sting worse. Three days after we buried my sister, we got the diagnosis. Part of me was glad that my sister didn't make it long enough to see her baby like this. If my heart was shattered, I can't begin to imagine what would have happened to hers. Prior to my sister's accident, she'd been some sort of magical historian. Collector and purveyor of rare, historic objects for magical museums. She was always hunting for the next lead. Her amber eyes would light up as she told me all about some ancient African mask or Incan cursed knife. I leaned back in my sister's old, worn leather chair, instinctively reaching for Mia's battered copy of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_. My sister used to read it to her every night before the accident and it seemed to be the only thing to calm her enough to sleep through the pain. It seemed to calm me down too.

I flicked through the worn pages, admiring the handwritten notes that my sister scribbled throughout it. Her handwriting, looping and easily flowing, reflected so much about her personality. A pang of grief washed over me thinking of the loss of her. None of this was fair. Death was playing some cruel trick, not unlike the one he played on the three brothers. Mia had survived a horrific car accident, then the devil in her bloodstream. She'd beaten it. The cells weren't growing out of control anymore. But her kidneys and liver didn't do well with the medicine. Next to the paragraph on death's cloak of invisibility, my sister scribbled a line of words and arrows. I traced the words with my eyes, imagining my sister's hand smearing the ink in the margin.

 _Ignotus Peverell→ Ignotus' son (?) → Iolanthe Peverell & husband Hardwin Potter → Ralston Potter (?) → Henry Potter → Fleamont Potter → James Potter → Harry Potter (confirmed) → James Potter II (likely).  
_  
My sister always did like to scribble out facts and details about books, but I hadn't seen these names mentioned anywhere in the books at all. The names of people born to the magical world always seemed to be bizarre. Iolanthe? Ralston? Fleamont? What the hell was wrong with these people?

I sighed, needing caffeine to course through my veins to zap my brain into action. If only her notes would direct me to that magical cloak. No, I decided, slamming the book shut entirely and abruptly standing up for a spot of tea. I was searching for some magical myth to save my baby niece. Desperation plays tricks on the mind. I almost fell for a scheme in Central America touting unspecified 'holistic' treatment with a '90% success rate'. I was one of the lucky ones, learning the lesson from a mother with a child in worse condition than Mia. She chose the treatments in Central America with better odds, only to find the pair of them in a run down shack with a glorified butcher who had absolutely no medical experience. It drained her bank account and her spirit. I rubbed my eyes forcefully, causing black spots to blur my vision. The sharp, piercing whistle of the kettle brought me out of my reverie. I carelessly sat my tea cup down on the stack of papers, causing the dark liquid to slosh out of the cup.

"Dammit!" I cried, hurriedly moving the teacup and blotting at the splash with my blouse. I couldn't change this place. I couldn't ruin it. The swirling pictures of disorganized words of the yellowing newspaper seemed to scold me for making a mess. I froze from my frantic blotting upon reading the headline. _Harry Potter Restored Family Home in West Country._ Harry Potter? I frantically flipped through the pages of Mia's book to find my sister's messy flowchart. There was the name! Harry Potter was on the flowchart! I flipped to page four of the newspaper, where more details would be listed on Harry Potter's new home. It was in a village called Godric's Hollow. There was even a picture of the house! Was my sister saying these people actually had the cloak? Or maybe all three of the hallows? Were they even real? Was death an actual entity? Without thinking, I grabbed my jacket and car keys and dashed out the door, hope bubbling in my chest for the first time in weeks.

A/N: This story is a three part attempt at angst (I'm definitely a fluff person). I don't have a medical background and I certainly don't have the sick child background so some of the facts of this story may not line up perfectly with reality. I tried to keep it as true to medicine as possible. All three chapters are written, they just need to be edited. Please review and let me know what you think! Also "There were once three brothers who were traveling along a lonely, winding road at twilight" is a quote from...you guessed it The Tales of Beedle the Bard by JKR.


	2. Chapter 2

The small village kept popping up on my navigation system before disappearing again. It was like it couldn't quite decide if it existed or not. An hour of driving and nervously drumming my fingers on the steering wheel brought me to the general vicinity of the village. Godric's Hollow was quaint at best. The narrow cobblestone road with nearly identical cottages on either side made it very difficult to navigate.

A small church, Parish of St. Clement, had a clock tower that was off by several minutes. The inaccuracy made my eye twitch, but I was on a mission. I held the yellowing newspaper up, driving slowly to compare the house in the picture to each of the houses. All of them were slightly off. A few missing shutters or slightly different windows gave them away. Further down the road, nearly at the end, I found it. It matched perfectly! I got out of my car and walked up to gate, running my hand on the grooves of the eerily cold stone.

"Can I help you?" a deep voice caused my heart to leap in my chest. It was the middle of the night, no one should be out at this time. I whipped around to see an equally startled man in his twenties wheeling the recycling bins out to the street for pick up.

"I-I was just-" I stammered, unsure of what I was actually doing.

"I get it, tourist, say no more." The man unhooked the gate, closing it behind him.

"Try not to stay too long, it's meant to rain tonight." he called, strolling to the house.

I hurried back in my car, but didn't turn on the engine. I sat, sobbing until my throat was raw and the rain pitter pattered on the metal. I can't fail. I have to find this stupid cloak that probably doesn't even really exist. Even the doctors are relying on chance now. Luck has never ever been on my side. I can't rely on chance alone. As the tears began to slow, I glanced back at the house. It was completely dark now, all the lights extinguished. It was far too early to break in and have a look around. Rain began to trickle down the windshield, the sound numbing my mind.

I flipped the newspaper to the fourth page, and scanned the document for information that might be useful. The man putting out the rubbish would be one of Harry Potter's two sons. My eyes searched the paper for the family picture I'd glimpsed of them at my sister's house. It was on page five. I studied each face, then glanced down at the corresponding name under the picture, labelled left to right. Ginny Potter with her flashing smile and knowing eyes. Harry Potter with his messy hair sticking up left and right. Lily Potter with her twinkling eyes and soft smile. Albus Potter with his erudite demeanor. Then James Potter with his arrogant smirk. That was the man rolling out the rubbish.

I knew I shouldn't, but something in my gut made me do it. I opened the door again, stepping out into the freezing drizzle. I dashed to the gate, pulling at the iron. It was locked, as expected. I dug my fingertips into the stones of the fence, and hoisted myself up, rubbing my legs raw on the jagged stones. It'd probably leave a rash later, but I didn't care.

I stuck closely to the stone pavers in the lush garden. I knew all about how dangerous magical plants could be from stories my sister had mentioned and couldn't help but worry that these people might have attacking plants guarding their house. Once some plant called Devil's Snare grabbed her in her gardening class and squeezed her until she passed out! To modify one of Mia's favorite chants, step on the crack and a weed might attack!

I strayed off the pathway toward the back door. A window was cracked slightly open on the side of the house, a small breeze wafting the floral curtain to and fro. I hesitantly stuck my head in, glancing about. The coast was clear. I pulled my short legs through the window, landing as quietly as possible. It appeared that I was in a small spare room. It was lilac with a metal loft bed along the wall, covered in floral blankets. It took several seconds for my vision to adjust to the darkness. I glanced around, heart hammering. If they heard me, they might kill me. Hunting for the Hallows would be much easier if I had the damned cloak in the first place.

I opened the dresser drawers quietly, rummaging for the cloak. I had to start somewhere! Every drawer checked, I sat on the floor and let out a muffled sigh. It might not even be here! It could be at James's flat or house or whatever it is he had! He might just be visiting his parents! Wherever it was, it definitely wasn't in here. I tiptoed over to the door, cracking it to spy out. All the lights were off still, but I could hear pages of a book turning softly. Someone was still awake. I leaned against the door frame, ignoring the moulding digging into my sensitive arms. The damn medicine made everything sensitive. I'd just wait until the pages stopped turning. I was terrified that if I dashed or even tiptoed across the hallways a floorboard might creak under my weight and that would be it. They'd find me and zap me with their wand and I'd become nothing more than a potion ingredient.

I counted every page that was turned, annoyed with every growing chapter. "Go to sleep so I can rob you!" I thought angrily. The rain began to patter loudly on the roof and suddenly I felt relief. The drumming of the rain would drown out any noises I accidentally made and it would probably lull the reader into a heavy sleep. I decided to chance it and tiptoe to the room directly across the hall, barely cracking the door to peer in just in case someone was in the room.

It appeared to be some sort of study. Bookcases lined the wall, full of tomes that were disorganized and stacked in funny arrangements. The desk was as cluttered as my sister's, full of paperwork mostly. I peered down to read it, but it was full of nonsense words like "auror" and "wizengamot" so I moved on. I sat down in the office chair, pulling a shimmering blanket over my lap. If I had a mythical cloak that probably doesn't even exist, where would I put it? Probably in a safe. I sighed to myself. I'm doing something exceptionally illegal and there was literally no way that this was going to work out for me. I put my head in my hands, nearing tears for the third time tonight when I gasped audibly.

My legs were missing! I patted them down frantically, sure that I had lost my mind! NO! They were still there! They were just...invisible! It had all been too easy! I mentally scolded the Potter family. If you have an invaluable magical artifact you don't just leave it draped over your office chair! That's how it gets stolen! I ignored the fact that I'm the one doing the stealing, held back a celebration dance, and hurried over to the window. Just as I got my left leg through, I knocked a stack of books to floor. I froze, terrified. They must have heard that. The door immediately creaked behind me. My eyes shot open and my heart thumped through my sweatshirt. It was the man I met earlier at the gate. James Potter.

"HEY!" he shouted, racing to the window, but I was already pulling myself through. He grabbed my shoulder tightly, causing the already sore muscles to sear with pain, but I tugged myself free from him. Flashes of light shot behind me, sparks and sizzling sounds whirling by my ear. One ray of gold struck my leg, causing my calf muscles to suddenly tighten up, throbbing and aching, spreading rapidly throughout my body. I ran anyway.

I sprinted to my car and tried to jam my keys in the ignition too quickly, dropping my keys. He was out through the window and racing toward my car. He looked like he could be an athlete. I had only mere seconds. My heart pounded in my ears, sure to burst my eardrums any moment. I frantically grasped for them, fingers combing the floorboard in panic, I jammed my key in the ignition successfully, barely beating the man who banged his hands on my window in fury. I floored it all the way back to the hospital, adrenaline coursing wildly through my veins. I nearly laughed. Nearly.

I dashed up three flights of fluorescently illuminated stairs to Dr. Cardillo's office. He was always there, working late, scribbling through paperwork. Sure enough, he was fast asleep where I anticipated he would be.

"You're going to think I'm crazy!" I shouted, bursting through the door. I startled him, causing him to jerk from his sleep, a thin thread of drool connecting his mouth to his paperwork.

"BLIMEY!" he shouted as he clutched his heart.

I slammed the door behind me.

"You're going to think I'm crazy!" I repeated, ignoring the fact that he looked like he thought I was already crazy, "but I have something that can save Mia." I thrusted the shimmering cloak into his arms.

"A...blanket?" he asked with that awful sympathetic voice of his.

"Not just any blanket. Try it on!" I insisted. He looked at me sadly, which filled me with temporary rage. It's not the time or the place to be upset. I took a calming breath.

"Laura, I understand that the news must have been hard on y-" he started in on me with that obnoxiously understanding voice.

"Just shut up and put it on!" I replied irritably.

He draped it across himself despite the look of disbelief. Then he gasped the same way I had earlier that evening.

"Bloody hell!" he shouted, clawing at the fabric in an attempt to pull the cloak off of himself. His hand latched onto a small golden cross swaying on his neck and ripped, the flash of gold clattering to the white linoleum floor.

"Hear me out. It's a-well-a religious relic of St. Clement's! And it protects the wearer from death. If Mia just wears it for a few more days, she can't die. Then we can do the transplant." I explained cautiously. Exposing magic could be dangerous. My sister had warned me about it several times. Dr. Cardillo stared at the heap of fabric on the floor, mouth gaping open.

"We are so close! So fucking close! We should be ready for the transplant in a matter of days!" I felt the tears beginning to well up.

"Well-Okay then." he said finally, never taking his eyes off the heap of fabric.

"Really?" I asked, surprised that he wasn't going to freak out or splash me with holy water.

"Laura, you just brought in a blanket that made my entire body disappear. If you say it'll give her a chance, I'm not going to argue with you on this one." He glanced up at me with a wondrous expression.

"The nurses can't come in and out. They can't see her invisible." I insisted. The last thing I need is more people to know about it. Someone would be tempted to take it.

"You're right. I'll care for her myself." he agreed, face creased with a frown.

"I'm going to go put it on her right now." I hugged the doctor. He stiffened but patted me on the back anyway.

I found her fast asleep, sleepy little smile splayed across her face. She looked peaceful, for once. Throughout this whole thing, she'd been my rock. She was the brave one. When I was on the brink of losing hope, she was there to resurrect it. She was just like her mother. I tucked the edges of the cloak around her, watching her frail form disappear.

"Does the medicine hurt you too, Lala?" Mia croaked from under the blanket.

"No, bun. I can't feel anything," I lied. The last thing I needed was her worrying about me.

"Me neither. It doesn't hurt me neither," she said decidedly. I smiled at her small face popping out from the pillows.

"Listen to me, Mia. I've found this blanket. It's a magical blanket that keeps you safe. I need you to cover your head whenever you start to feel bad or if the machines start beeping funny. We've only got a few more days of this." I pleaded with her softly. She frowned at my serious face, but she couldn't possibly understand how serious I was. I squeezed her hand for good measure. I think that covering most of her body might be enough to protect her from Death, but covering her entire body would certainly do the trick.

She nodded her head, gently closing her eyes in exhaustion. I covered her head with the invisibility cloak, finally feeling like I might get a few hours of sleep tonight. I missed sleep so desperately.

Sleepy thoughts brought me back to where they always took me. The second worst day of my life. The diagnosis. When they told me that the medicine that would save her would also poison her, I didn't comprehend. I didn't understand any of it. They said that the disease was complicated because it's from her own cells. That meant it hides really well from most medicines. The only medicines that wipe out the disease also wipes her out. But the outlook was still good. Remission rates are high, once you battle it, it's fine. She'd beaten it with the help of the toxic medicine poisoning her body. She was in the clear. I'm so used to commercials rattling off potential side effects that organ damage never even occurred to me until her eyes were glowing yellow and the doctors were once again in a panic. "What the hell happened in here?" "Haven't you been monitoring her tests?" "It just happened! Everything was fine last week!" The heated exchange between nurses in the hallway still rang in my ears. Her liver was damaged beyond repair. Her urine was nearly the color of tea, her eyes were yellowing, her tummy hurt so bad. We found out her kidneys were going too. They wheeled in another machine, hooked it up to her arm, and the steady beeping of it kept her alive.

My sleepy mind drifted off to just a year ago when drunken club nights, sleeping through uni lectures, and dating apps were still a thing for me. I desperately wished that I could go back to that selfish time. Back to when my sister was alive. Back to when my niece was whole. Sleep never came. 


	3. Chapter 3

"How's she looking?" I grinned at Dr. Cardillo, knowing the answer before he said it. He had a certain spring in his step as he came and went with lab results.

"It's working! She's nearly wiped out the infection and her counts are looking great. I think we'll be able to schedule the surgery as early as this week!"

"She's a real fighter!" I grinned glancing over my shoulder where she slept underneath the cloak. I was overwhelmed with relief. We were going to win this after all. We deserved this after everything. We deserved trips to Paris, afternoons in the park, skinned knees, boy problems, wedding plans, babies for me to terrorize. We deserved it all.

"Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something." He gestured for me to follow him to his office. He quietly closed the door, then sat down on his desk with a contemplative expression smeared across his lined face.

"What is it?" My voice quivered as my heart skipped a beat. Maybe everything wasn't fine after all.

"As you know, I've dedicated my life to children. I could've picked any field to go into, but I knew helping kids was my calling. I've seen so many families torn apart, more deaths than remissions, the worst things that most people couldn't even imagine." His eyes were haunted with ghosts of children I'd never know.

"Each patient I lose kills a little bit of my soul." I watched as his eyes glistened ever so slightly. I nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. That helpless feeling of watching someone you care about wither into nothingness. That feeling in the pit of my stomach as I watched a healthy seven year old become so frail, so fragile. The medicine ate away at her insides, peppered her mouth with sores, leaving her skeleton to poke through her skin.

"I just think that what we have here–well it could do a lot of good for a lot of people." Dr. Cardillo fiddled with his hands, not looking up at me.

"I think so too. Here's the thing though." I had to admit what I had done before he got his hopes too high. "I kind of stole it."

"Well I figured as much," he said with a laugh that crinkled the edges of his eyes.

"The people I took it from, well, they're going to come looking for it at some point. I'm sure of it." Part of me was surprised they hadn't already taken it from Mia. They were much more powerful than I could ever dream of. It was just a matter of time.

"Well, until they do find it, let's save more children."

I grinned at him. "Let's save more children." I opened the door to his office to return to Mia, only to slam it shut and spin around.

"Laura?" The good doctor eyed me once again as if I was crazy.

"They're here!" I hissed quietly, beckoning the doctor to stand beside me.

"Who?"

"The Potters!" I said frantically, running my hands through my hair in a panic.

"Who?" he repeated.

"The people I stole the cloak from!"

"Oh." He grimaced at the news. We just agreed on saving more children after Mia and now those hopes were dashed.

"What do we do?"

Dr. Cardillo cracked the door slightly and we stood by it, listening. They looked exactly like their picture in the swirling newspaper.

"And you said we'd never need to track the damn cloak." Ginny's voice whispered harshly just outside of the office.

"Hey, I only lost it twice at Hogwarts!" James put his hands up as if Ginny's statement was some sort of accusation.

"Excuse me. Are you family of a patient?" a nurse that was deemed 'the mean nurse' by the parents stuck on this floor asked skeptically. The Potter family didn't exactly blend in with the rest of us. They were all wearing long, billowing cloaks in jewel tones. It reminded me of my sister's emerald cloak that she kept wearing in public around normal people despite my vehement protests.

"Have you seen a cloak around here? Someone stole one from us." Albus ignored her question, peering down the hallway.

"If you aren't family, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." The nurse crossed her arms firmly, disregarding the bizarre question she was asked. Suddenly, I didn't care that she was the least friendly, the strictest on contraband, or the sharpest at giving shots. She was guarding Mia the way I could only hope to. They exchanged glances and turned back the way they came. That wouldn't be the last of them.

When they were out of sight, I dashed across the hall to Mia's room.

"Hey bun. Want another story?" I smiled down at her under the cloak, cracking open _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ for the millionth time.

* * *

My dreams crashed around me as a frenzy of beeps from the machines hooked up to Mia blared into the darkness. I leapt out of the chair I had fallen asleep in and rushed by her side. The tattered book I had been reading to her clamored to the floor. I saw the problem immediately. Her tiny pink fingers were peaking out from under the cloak. In a panic I shoved her hand back underneath the cloak and glanced at the monitor. Her vitals were dropping anyway.

"NURSE!" I screamed, but they were on their way already. I could hear Dr. Cardillo's orthopedic shoes squeaking as he sprinted from his office across the hall.

Time seemed to slow as the nurses and doctors rushed around me, a swirl of panicked bodies rushing for gadgets, searching for drugs, and tearing at her hospital gown. My own heart echoed in my ears. The cloak should have worked. It was magic. It should have been fine. I dropped to my knees, clutching the shimmering blanket in my fists. It should have worked.

My own vision began to blur, but it wasn't from the tears swimming in my eyes. The sudden chill tracing my spine and the haunting feeling of inevitability overwhelmed my senses. I could feel Death in the room. He had found her.

"Take me instead." I pleaded to the nothingness. If Death truly was an entity as the story suggested, maybe Death could be reasoned with.

"I'll do anything you want. Just take me instead."

My vision darkened, black spots clouding my vision. "Take me instead." I whispered. The darkness swallowed my vision.

* * *

The deafening silence pierced my ears. I blinked rapidly at the undefined mist floating around me. Heat rose to my cheeks as my hands scrambled to cover my naked form. A pile of laundered clothing was deposited in front of me from nowhere. I shook my head in confusion, but pulled the clothes on quickly. Where the hell am I?

I blinked several times again as the mist morphed into a place I recognized from before everything went to shit. It was the park that Mia used to play at before she lost her mother, before the sickness. I glanced left and right, assuming this place could have a left and right, and my eyes immediately stung with tears. I was drawn to the rusty old swing set that Mia liked to climb on top of despite my screams of protests and her mother's threats of no ice cream. On the rusty old swing sat my sister, pushing herself off the ground gingerly.

"Anna!" I called to her. She only smiled faintly at me, her hand popping up shyly.

"Anna! Where are we?" I cried, reaching to hug her. She felt the way she always felt. Whole and warm and safe.

"I was about to ask you the same thing." She glanced around in a daze.

"I think it's meant to be the park Mia used to play at." I squinted at the empty slides and rubber pebbles.

"Is it?" She glanced around again with a sad smile.

"Is this heaven? Am I dead?" I stared at the ground. If I died then Death decided to take me instead of her! A small seed of hope bloomed in my chest. She would live! She would get Paris and bad dates and dancing down the aisle to her true love.

"I don't think you're dead. This isn't heaven, but it's certainly not where you're from either. Maybe it's just Other," she said in that decisive tone she always used.

"Other." I repeated in a daze. My heart swelled with joy. If I could spend the rest of eternity listening to my sister's decisive tones, knowing Mia was alive, well, I could die happy.

"Mia is sick. She's dying. We've almost won though," I said abruptly. The smile fell off of Anna's face.

"I know, Laura." She smiled sadly again.

"I thought we had Death beat. I really did. I found the cloak of invisibility. I thought I could hide her from Death." The tears began to well up. Anna touched my shoulder.

"Laura, you can't beat Death! It is Death, after all! Death and taxes! They always catch up to you!" She snorted at me.

"Well, I'm here aren't I?" I asked smugly.

"Laura, I told you already that you aren't dead. Death didn't take you. I think you just needed closure."

"If Death didn't take me–" I began frantically. "I have to get back to Mia! I have to save Mia!" I kicked off the swing, running as fast as I could.

"Where in the world are you going?" Anna giggled.

"To find Mia!" I hissed. This wasn't nice anymore. Seeing her wasn't important right now. Mia was. The thing beside me wasn't my sister. My sister would do everything in her power to keep Mia safe. She'd have beat Death into submission just for thinking about Mia.

The mist dissipated, then reformed as another place. I waited for my eyes to adjust. We were back in the hospital. Mia was in the bed, her eyes shut tight, ghostly pale. The doctors and nurses were running to and from her bedside, Dr. Cardillo whispering a silent prayer.

"Laura, you can't save everyone," Anna said in a sing-song voice.

"I can bloody well try!" I snapped. Anna was sounding less and less like my sister with each passing moment.

"Mia needs to come to me now!" Anna pleaded with me.

"She bloody well doesn't!" I tried to grab Mia's hand, but slipped right through her.

"You tried your best. You did more than anyone else could have!" Anna pleaded gently. Everything this Anna did was gently and that certainly was not like my sister at all. My sister was fiery. She was fierce.

"Not more than you! If you'd been there, you'd just wave your wand and she would have been fine!" I shouted. My voice was hoarse as if I had been crying. I hadn't had a chance to cry properly yet.

"You overestimate me." Her laugh tinkled in a way that was both familiar and foreign.

"You'd at least have gotten her into that stupid hospital of yours." I said bitterly. She'd been fine if I'd gotten her into that stupid hospital.

My sister's smile taunted me as the mist rose up again, swallowing the hospital and my consciousness.

* * *

"Is she okay?" I asked the moment I awoke in a bed that smelled too sterile, sheets that felt too crisp. Dr. Cardillo was sitting beside me, face blotchy and red. He had been crying.

"Laura I'm afraid–" His sympathetic eyes were a stinging crimson.

"Tell me you didn't–" Every ounce of blood drained from my face. I didn't want to be here anymore. I didn't want him to keep talking. Not knowing was better than knowing. Once the words came out of his mouth there was no going back.

"We did everything we could." His voice cracked, sounding as utterly demolished as I felt.

My heart couldn't beat. My lungs couldn't pull in air. My brain stopped firing electrical impulses. It had all been for nothing. We lost.

"I need to see her."

"I'm not sure if that's–"

"I NEED TO SEE HER!" I screamed. My throat was closing up. My saliva was too thick to swallow. I couldn't see his face because the barrage of tears pelting my cheeks. I couldn't think of anything other than the fact that I didn't even get to say goodbye. I was supposed to be there for her. Hold her hand as she left the world. I needed to make sure she knew everything would be okay. I was supposed to be there.

"Tell me you didn't stop helping her for me." I pleaded. I needed to know that she didn't die because of my weakness.

"Your heart stopped beating."

"Hers will never beat again."

He sighed.

"I didn't stop helping Mia for you."

I nodded, not hearing his words. All I could feel was the emptiness swallowing me back up. What was I supposed to do without Mia? Go back to Uni? Get a job? Pretend that life would go on? Pretend that I wasn't shattered, never to be pieced together again? I couldn't do any of that.

"You were gone for much longer than you should have been. Only one nurse helped you."

I turned over in the hospital bed, hoping one of the nurses would sedate me. I didn't want to feel this pain anymore.

* * *

A whisper broke the silence of the night in the hospital. "I ought to hex her right here and now!"

"James, I think we need to hear her out," said a girl's voice.

"Hear her out? She's a bloody thief!" James growled, rage filling the small room.

"A thief in bed at a children's hospital!" a deeper voice protested.

"She was just fine a few nights ago when she crashed through our window!" James argued.

I wearily cracked my eyes open at the disturbance.

"It's in the top drawer." I whispered. I didn't want to face them.

"She's awake!" The small table lamp allowed my eyes to follow the voice back to Albus' mouth.

"And what do you have to say for yourself?" James sat on my bed, clearly livid. If it had been another time, another life, I would have found him handsome. Instead I couldn't feel anything at all except for the hollowness. The void was too big to fill.

"Don't rely on the cloak. Death and taxes–" I had a coughing fit, sending the beeps from my own machine into a frenzy. Harry put a hand on his eldest son's shoulder.

"They always catch up to you."

The medicine dripping in my veins lulled me back to a dreamless stupor. Two days later, when I was released from the hospital that had become my home, all that remained of my world was the book with the frayed pages and cracked spine. 

* * *

A/N: BAM! My first attempt at angst. Do you know how hard it was for me to not write this as a happily ever after? I had three endings to this story, but this one was the most painful one for me so it's the one I went with. Please let me know what you think! 


End file.
